Ferry Me Downstream
by TiTivillus
Summary: Dean Winchester doesn't do hugs. He doesn't say 'I love you' and he most certainly doesn't do heartfelt goodbyes… unless he feels like it might be his last chance. Coda to 14x11 "Damaged Goods". Hurt/Comfort. Brotherly Love. Codependency.


**Title:** Ferry Me Away

 **Summary:** Dean Winchester doesn't do hugs. He doesn't say 'I love you' and he most certainly doesn't do heartfelt goodbyes… unless he feels light it might be his last chance. Coda to 14x11 "Damaged Goods". Hurt/Comfort. Brotherly Love. Codependency.

 **Warnings:** Spoilers up to 14x11 "Damaged Goods". Mentions of suicide. Suicidal tendencies. Self-Worth Issues. Bad language.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own these characters.

* * *

Dean should have just walked out.

He should have left a single envelope sitting on the pillow in his room, containing a letter that Sam would probably never bring himself to read.

The letter he had taken five attempts to write, the one that had left him feeling oddly empty inside. Dean had gone as far as to pack his bag and to make his bed one last time, callous fingers brushing lovingly over his memory foam before carefully placing the letter on top of his pillow. He got as far as to the doorway when his steps slowed to a halt, his feet suddenly leaden with guilt.

Then he closed his eyes, ready to take that final step out into the hallway, out through the garage, leaving Sam - Sam who had spent every spare second in the library, trying to find a way to save Dean. _Yeah, no dick move at all._ Ready to sneak out without a look back because it was easier, less painful for both of them.

See the thing was, Dean knew his brother.

He knew Sam wouldn't give this Michael thing a rest until he had found a way to expel the archangel from Dean's mind and he would hit book after book after book, driving himself up the walls in his frantic search for a cure. He would do it selflessly, desperately and most definitely at the expense of his own health, which was something Dean couldn't allow to happen. Call it a last act of protectiveness or whater. But Dean wasn't going to watch his brother's despair over something that was already decided.

Starting to move again, Dean made a few determined steps down the hallway before his steps faltered again. He stopped and dropped his duffel to the ground, before slowly turning back around toward his room. What the hell was he doing? Sam would never forgive him if he set off on a suicide mission and left nothing but a damn letter in his wake. Sam deserved more than. No matter how much this whole thing sucked.

So Dean flicked the light back on, crossed over to the bed and took the envelope before swiftly ripping it in half.

* * *

The hug hadn't been planned. It just kind of... happened.

Dean walked up slowly from behind and snaked an arm around Sam's front. The embrace was warm and firm and his arms were locked protectively around his brother in a last resemblance of what he's always been – what they've always been. Two puzzle pieces perfectly fit for each other. Dean, the protector, the guardian, wrapped securely around the kid with the dimpled smile and the big heart. Sam went rigid against him, tensing up as though he was under attack. Dean waited just long enough for Sam to relax against him, accepting the simple gesture for what it was before he gave Sam's neck one last squeeze and a brotherly pat.

"Take care, Sammy," Dean muttered because Sam would never own up to how much he loved that nickname and Dean would never admit to how much he loved using it.

It would have been a perfect goodbye. Not too painful, at least not for Sam, which was important because Dean was still a protector, still a big brother to the last goddamn beat of his stubborn heart. And making this easier on Sam was his main priority. But it wasn't an entirely selfless act, either. Because if there was one thing – one goddamn thing on the planet that could have kept Dean from sinking straight to the bottom of the Pacific in a warded steel box? It was one word of protest from Sam's lips. One teary-eyed, pleading look with those soulful eyes. And Dean couldn't have that. He couldn't _risk_ it.

So he allowed his gaze to drift away, his mind and heart already losing focus of the warmth that emanated from Sam's body and the softness of his hair against his scruffy chin. He stepped away and hoped that the last thing he'd remember in those dark hours before he died, would be the faint scent of pine and old books that clung to Sam.

Dean turned away before he could see the worry that was probably etched into every line of Sam's features by now. He walked out before Sam could see the heartbreak in his own.

* * *

Visiting their mom was less about bidding her farewell than it was about Dean having spent his entire life missing out on what it was like to have a normal life. Spending quality time with their father would have been hard enough to picture, but one-on-one time with their deceased mother was something Dean had never even dared to dream about. But now they were here, just the two of them, eating the 'Winchester Special' and reliving old memories.

At some point during their conversation, Dean found himself thinking that if their mom had ever really known him, she would have known something was off with Dean the second he had shown up without Sam in tow. She would have realized that in his entire life, not even after he had hit puberty and Sammy had been his pain-in-the-ass geeky kid brother, Dean had said _'I don't want Sam here,'_ to anyone and meant it.

So the reason why he had visited their mom was not only for the joy of her company. But because she couldn't tell those signs, didn't know what to make of them. She didn't hear the slight waver of his voice every time the memories of a chubby little baby Sam became a little too vivid, didn't see the way his eyes shone wetly in the dim cabin light despite Dean's trademark grin to cover his emotions up with.

She didn't know him.

* * *

Mary didn't know him. But _Sam_ did. Better than anyone in the entire world.

Which was why Dean was eventually facing his brother down in that shed, with Sam's accusing stare burning right through his skin and Dean's ugly, coffin-shaped secret between them.

"But there has to be another way—"

Sam was so loyal. Once upon a time he would have jumped at an opportunity to have his own life, to have his freedom. But not anymore and Dean had never really figured out how he felt about that.

Sam was also hopeful. He had always been Dean's moral compass and his reminder that not everything was wrong with the world, even when it seemed like it. Sam would never give up willingly, which was why Dean had taken such drastic measures.

"Sam." He swallowed around the lump in his throat that was caused by the black pit that had opened behind his brother's eyes. "There's not, okay? There's—" he paused, licking his lips. "Sam you've tried. And Cas has tried, and Jack. And I love you for trying."

The look of horror that crossed Sam's face would have been funny if it wasn't for the circumstances. They didn't say these things to each other, not until they thought they'd never get the chance again. And only now it sank in. The cogs in Sam's brain started turning as he stared at Dean in shocked silence.

"But none of it's gonna work."

This was his fate. This damn box. At the bottom of the ocean. And neither heaven nor hell, nor Sammy's strong will would change it. This was it.

End of the line.

Once and for all.

And Dean should have known, Sam would misunderstand this. That he would throw a tantrum about how Dean hadn't involved him, hadn't told him, how he could have possible kept a secret that big. But he hadn't expected the look of bone-deep hurt in Sam's eyes as he rounded the metal box.

"So you came out here to say goodbye to Donna. To see mom. On some, what, some sick secret farewell tour?!" Sam was livid but beneath the pugnacious lift of his chin and the 'come hither' posture, he was filled to the brim with betrayal. "You were gonna leave… and you weren't even gonna tell me? _**Me**_."

Sam's voice broke on that last word as though he couldn't believe that Dean would ever hurt him so badly, that after everything they'd been through Dean would prefer Donna over him. Which was ridiculous. There was nobody, not their mother or Cas and certainly none of their other friends, as much as Dean loved and appreciated them, he would ever prefer to Sam's company.

"Do you realize how messed up that is?" Sam worked himself further up, his voice rising as his features twisted into a pained grimace. "How _unfair_ that is?"

And Dean couldn't take no more. "I didn't have a choice!" he snapped. "Sam, you're the LAST person I could tell. The last person I could be around because you're the _only_ one that could've talked me out of it!"

And just like that, the truth had clawed its way from his throat and it left them both shaken in its aftermath. Sam's features softened as though Dean's words had sucked all the fight right out of him and come to think of it, maybe they had.

Dean had said it before, using different words.

' _Sammy, you're my weak spot'._

There wasn't anyone in this world that could make Dean cave quicker than his little brother and if Sam still didn't understand that after all these years, than he wasn't as smart as Dean had always given him credit for.

"And I won't be talked out of it," Dean said finally, just to make it clear that this time would be final. He couldn't bear the thought of getting Sam's hopes up for that miraculous change of mind that was never going to happen. "I _won't_."

For a moment, Dean thought Sam was going to put up a fight, but he seemed to compose himself almost instantly, emotionally distancing himself from his feelings to allow his brain to work. Dean could tell that Sam was already thinking of an alternative, of a way to keep this from happening. But then Dean broke the standoff, circling the Malak box that was going to seal his fate for eternity.

"I'm doing this," Dean said, not leaving a flicker of doubt for Sam out of fear that it would break him. "Now you can either let me do it alone. Or you can help me. But I'm doing this."

Sam glanced away, too late for Dean to miss the shimmer of tears in his eyes as he gave a little shake of his head in denial. He set his jaw, seemingly fighting with his own emotions and then the impossible words made it past his lips. "Alright."

"Alright?" Dean cocked an eyebrow in surprise.

Sam was quiet again, emotions warring on his face. He looked so young like this, young and fragile, when he was anything but. "If this is what you really want… if you say it's the only way, then—" Sam's voice broke and he looked away again and this whole thing, watching him force out the words when they were so clearly hurting him was like pulling teeth. Dean hated himself for putting this weight on Sam's shoulders, for having to ask for Sam's help. But he also knew that there was no way in hell Sam was going to let him do this alone.

"Sam." Dean shook his head. He had already said it all today, both with words and without. "This isn't another one of those narrow escapes, okay? If you're with me on this, you can't cop out when it gets ugly."

Sam looked like he thought the plan was already doomed to failure, or like he was going to reconsider, but he didn't argue. Just kept staring at Dean with those huge, sadness-filled eyes and gave a tremulous nod.

He was doing it because they had agreed to put the greater good first, no more reckless sacrifices to save one another. Not at the cost of other lives. And because Dean had done the same, back when Sam had come up with the idea to trap Lucifer. Because Dean hadn't left back then, because he'd been there for every gruesome, painful, ugly-ass second of Lucifer possessing Sam. And now Sam repaid him that very favor, no matter how much it hurt inside.

* * *

What neither of them was prepared for, was the finalty of it all.

"Sam?" Dean's voice was shaking so hard, he sounded younger to his own ears – younger than he'd felt in a really long time. The metal cage around him was damp from the cracks running through those seemingly unbreakable walls as he sank deeper and deeper, icy water leaking inside in form of tiny rivulets and drops. He was chilled to the bone and shaking all over, the only source of light in the pitch black darkness being the light of his cell phone display as he clung to it with shaky hands.

"Dean?!" Sam's voice sounded panicked and shaky, as though he couldn't believe what he was hearing, that they were even still talking. That Dean had called him.

Dean didn't know how long the connection would hold, but at the rate he was sinking, they had half a minute, maybe less. And all of a sudden, Dean had too many thoughts jammed inside his head, too many regrets to make up for, too many questions to ask and things he'd missed out on. He wasn't ready. He wasn't ready. He didn't want to die. But most of all, he didn't want to die alone.

What in the world were you supposed to say when you have less than a minute to say good-bye to the person you loved most in the world when you knew you were never going to see them again? Dean was suddenly log-jammed with the effort to say and settle everything at once.

"Sam," Dean's voice broke on the name. There wasn't enough oxygen in the air and Dean's breathing grew more hectic at the realization, his hands shooting out to claw at the steel cage surrounding him.

 _"Dean?"_ Sam asked again, and his voice was broken off for a second, the connection already weakening.

"Sammy, I know I said no goodbyes, but… I-I want you to be happy, alright?" Dean choked out because there was no sense holding it back now. "Have a family, a dog- ten dogs if you like." Dean laughed wetly, a painful smile carving its way through the tears.

 _"Dean—"_ Sam's voice was butchered with grief. _"I don't—"_

"No hard feelings this time," Dean promised. "I'll catch you on the flipside, yeah?"

There was a broken sound on the other end and Dean pictured Sammy crying, clutching the phone like a lifeline, because it was. It was.

"There's a place… a place where you and I are always young and we're driving down this endless stretch of road. Zeppelin playin' in the background. Windows down in the summer breeze. Just the two of us."

The connection was breaking of again, the display started flickering.

 _"D—n? –u 'ear me?"_

"I'll find you there, okay, Sammy?"

 _"-"_

"Sam?" Dean's breath hitched and panic flooded his heart at the impending separation. _One more second. Give me one more moment with him, please._

"Sam!" Dean cried, fumbling frantically with the phone as the screen flickered to life and then died completely a second later. He stared at it in absolute shock and panic for a second, feeling like he'd jumped off an edge. So this was what the final goodbye felt like. And the worst part was making the choice to do it, once you were in the air, there was nothing you could do but let go. "Sammy?!"

But Sam was gone.

And for the first time it felt final. Somewhere deep down, they had gotten so used to finding their way back to each other every time, without exception, that they thought they would always stay connected, even in the afterlife.

But this time, this last time, it felt _final._ He felt it in his bones. Dean had made his choice and Sam had chosen to let him go and with his heart falling into an abyss, Dean closed his eyes, lowering his phone down so it rested over his heart as the water engulfed him.

Life couldn't possibly have given them to each other, only to break them apart again.

' _There's a place where you and I are young in the Impala. And I'll find you there.'_

' _I'll find you there.'_

 **The End**

* * *

 **A/N:** _I'm an emotional mess. So we get like 300 episodes with no brotherly interaction and then /this/ - seriously? Sorry for how angsty this turned out. I might add another chapter if I feel like it and save Dean. What are your speculations on the next episode? And how did you like the story? Please take a second to review! :)_


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